


Can't keep hanging on

by allredpen



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, I Am Sorry, M/M, Rough Sex, Ryan is a horny mess/sex pest, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, sex in the childhood bedroom trope, this is trash pure and simple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allredpen/pseuds/allredpen
Summary: In Ryan’s defense, he thought Shane was into it.orRyan follows Shane home to Schaumburg for Christmas.orRyan wants to get down, Shane abhors getting caught.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 28
Kudos: 123
Collections: Skeptic Believer Book Club Advent Calendar





	Can't keep hanging on

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bridge Club Advent Calendar!  
> And also for my birthday, because it is my birthday.  
> I definitely intended to make this more Christmas-y, but I got carried away with a prevailing theme of the fuck-shy partner home for the holidays. It's a thing. 
> 
> Title from Myth, by Beach House.

In Ryan’s defense, he thought Shane was into it. 

After all, their first time had been a fumbling mess in the parking garage of Steven’s apartment complex after a party, and Shane had seemed pretty into it then. 

They’d snuck out of the party that night, clinging to each other in the lift, making out like teenagers. It was such an intoxicating discovery, that they were allowed this, allowed to touch each other instead of just watching. It was so intoxicating that they’d felt compelled to find the darkest possible corner and press as close as possible. 

Ryan remembered being shocked at how handsy Shane was, how readily he shoved his hand under the waistband of Ryan’s briefs, fished him out, and finished him off right there in a carpark at 1am. 

Two days later Ryan intercepted Shane as he left the office, hip-checking him into the stairwell, and pressing him into the railing. 

“Woah,” Shane had said. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Bergara.”

“I don’t, yet,” Ryan replied, dropping a crooked wink he immediately regretted. It was artless, but Shane had gone all pink and huffy about it anyway. Ryan derived as much pleasure now as he always had from getting an embarrassed reaction from Shane, and now he had a whole new set of tools with which to work.

That had been August (and September, and October, and November) in California, and Ryan quickly discovered that August in California was very different to December in Schaumburg, for Shane. 

\--

There was trouble from almost the moment they stepped foot in O’Hare, when Shane side-stepped several attempts by Ryan to thread an arm around his waist, and looked askance when Ryan slipped a hand into Shane’s back pocket.

Ryan let him go on with that, until they were standing on the sidewalk in the cold, waiting for their ride, and Shane ducked - _ducked!_ \- away from a peck on the lips like it was a slap. 

“Shane, what are you- do they not-” Ryan laid a palm flat to Shane’s chest. “Shane, did you not tell anyone about-”

Ryan flapped his hand vaguely between them. 

“What?” Shane watched Ryan’s flailing with his head cocked. “Oh- what? No! No, they know.”

“So what was-” Ryan waved his hand again, up and down Shane’s body this time.

“It’s fine!” Shane smiled, strained. “It’s not- It’s just- Scott will be here any second, and it’s just- it’s unseemly.”

“Unseemly?!” Ryan gaped at him. “Are you a Victorian dowager? A puritan? It’s unseemly _?_!”

“What’s unseemly?” Scott called through the wound-down passenger window of his car where it had pulled up behind them. Shane was off like a shot and into the front seat, a bright pink colour already spreading across his cheeks.

In the car, Shane dropped his hand back through the gap between the seat and the door and allowed Ryan to link their pinkies together. 

So Ryan was expected to just accept that Shane would be a picture of sexless propriety within the bounds of Illinois. Which was fine, it really was, except that for whatever reason, the Christmas season had always made Ryan incredibly, painfully, humiliatingly horny. He tipped his head onto the seat back and barely managed to suppress a groan.

\--

Their first few days confirmed Ryan’s fears. Though he was briefly buoyed to see they’d both been put up in Shane’s old room, Shane’s mother had also pointedly left an air mattress and sheets in the middle of the floor. 

“But it’s uninflated,” Ryan said, standing over the pile of linen and PVC. “What does it mean that it’s uninflated? Is it just a suggestion? Is it because the bed’s small?”

Shane smoothed a hand down Ryan’s back, dropped a kiss on his crown that Ryan leaned into.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to figure that one out, Bergara,” he said over his shoulder as he left the room. “Some mysteries are simply too midwestern to be solved.”

Ryan squeezed himself into the bed that night, defiant, but even sliding his hand up Shane’s long, solid thigh was out of order, and Shane stopped it midway with an indistinct, sleepy murmur. So that was that.

“Scott’s right next door,” He whispered the next night, Christmas Eve, his arms around Ryan. “Come on Ryan, you can go a few days.”

“Tough talk for a guy with his cock pressed against my ass,” Ryan replied, and wiggled maliciously for good measure.

But there were worse things than the disappointment happening nightly in Shane’s childhood bedroom. The many risky encounters they’d shared during those heady early months had given Ryan a kind Pavlovian response to being tucked in corners and close spaces with Shane. By Christmas day, he’d talked himself out of boners in just about every storage room, powder room, and laundry in the Madej’s lovely suburban home. 

Disaster struck when Sherry sent Ryan to look for ‘the good placemats’ in the hallway closet. 

“How am I supposed to know which one of these is ‘good’?” He muttered to himself, knelt amongst three separate sets of Christmas themed placemats, when the door opened. 

“I’ve been sent to fetch you,” Shane said, closing the door with a click and leaning against it. “Or save you from a tragic placemat-related misadventure.”

From his knees, Ryan took in the picture Shane made, leaning, with his arms crossed in a thrifted bulky knit sweater that made Ryan’s mouth water for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely. 

And suddenly, he was rock-fucking-hard once again. Who could blame him for launching across the small space to press his face into Shane’s fly. Certainly not Shane, who was clearly half-hard himself, and getting further along by the minute.

“Ry,” Shane whispered, grasped Ryan’s head gently in his hands. “God, you look- I want-”

Which was permission enough for Ryan. He fumbled Shane’s chinos open and mouthed at his cock through his briefs. Shane groaned, and sunk his hands further into Ryan’s hair, pushing off the door and pressing Ryan’s face closer, harder. Ryan pulled just enough of Shane out to get his mouth around the head, and marveled at Shane’s hips jerking in reaction. It was fucking perfect. It was all going so swimmingly, in fact, that Ryan should have smelled trouble.

“Yo, Mom sent me to-” Scott flung the door open, and- “Christ!”

Ryan peered around Shane to see Scott with a hand clapped over his eyes. He looked up to Shane who had gone completely stiff, his face drained of blood. Shane’s dick, Ryan noted with satisfaction, had not managed to drain of blood. 

“Oh, Scott!” Ryan’s heart was beating wildly. “Great! We were just-”

“Puzzle!” Shane choked out, finally moving, and grabbed a box from near his feet. “We got distracted by this puzzle of-” Shane turned the box over and made a face. “of an aerial view of Chicago in 1933.” 

Ryan groaned.

“Okay,” Scott chuckled, a touch uncomfortably. He still had a hand over his eyes. “Well, once you’re done with that, Mom says she wants the white placemats with gold trim.”

“Thanks!” Ryan chirped with false brightness. 

God. Shane was never going to let Ryan touch him again after this. 

\--

The two of them were like polite acquaintances around the family after that. On boxing day, Ryan even caught Shane covertly scooting his chair an inch away from him when an aunt engaged them in conversation. It was a disaster.

It was the 27th before they had more than 10 minutes together again. 

With a canny look that made Ryan’s stomach churn with embarrassment, Scott announced he was going to watch a movie downstairs with his parents. 

“But if you guys wanted to, oh, I dunno.” Scott pretended to think for a second. “Do a puzzle or something, don’t let us stop you.”

Embarrassed or not, Ryan hustled Shane upstairs, barely pausing to say goodnight to Mark and Sherry, who were doing the dishes and also gave them knowing smiles. 

“This is so humiliating,” Shane groaned when the door closed behind him. “My brother set us up a dick appointment.”

“In your childhood bedroom, no less!” Ryan replied, already wriggling out of his jeans. 

Faintly, they could hear booming from the TV downstairs, set far louder than was strictly necessary. For all his hand-wringing, Shane was stripped down to his underwear in minutes, and let himself be pressed down into the king single under the dark wood panel ceiling, while Ryan took his place, straddled on Shane’s lap. 

It was worth every little bit of absolute humiliation he’d suffered up to this point just to see Shane’s eyes go dark as Ryan built a slow grind that was just this side of too much.

“Thank God,” Ryan said, leaning over the side of the bed to fish around in his bag. “I was starting to think I’d never get laid again.”

“It was a close thing,” Shane agreed, but he was also reaching down and back, spreading Ryan’s cheeks, running a finger over his hole. Ryan felt flushed and dick crazy. He tossed the lube he’d snagged onto the bed. 

“Did you-” Shane strained his reach to press a thumb easily into Ryan, who had - with uncharacteristic optimism - prepared for this. “When did you have time for this?”

“When I- Ah! Came up for a nap.” Ryan replied. It was hard to string a sentence together. Shane was pressing that thumb back inside Ryan, dipping in and out, pushing in and pressing up. 

“Alright pal,” Ryan panted, rolling his hips to chase that shooting pleasure. “I’m gonna need to you to go ahead and fuck me.”

“Please, Ry.” Shane had his dick in hand, flushed head-to-toe, and so hot. “Don’t ever call me pal in that context again.”

Despite his prep work, Ryan had to ease it home, sinking down inch by scant inch. Shane gripped him by the small of his back with one hand, and clapped the other tight over Ryan’s mouth - which would have been insulting if it wasn’t so hot - and continued apace what Ryan had started, driving up and in with what Ryan suspected was pent-up frustration directed at him. 

Ryan could have cried from the relief at finally getting what he needed. He was happy. 

Happy, that is, until the smoke alarm downstairs went off.

At the sound, Shane stilled almost entirely, leaning up on an elbow to look at the door. 

“No,” Ryan said, panicked, but Shane was already taking Ryan by the hips and making to buck him off unceremoniously.

“Don’t you dare,” Ryan gasped on an accidental upward stroke. “ _Shane_ -”

“It’s a fucking smoke alarm, Ry, I-”

Ryan pinned his shoulders to the mattress and redoubled his efforts, driving down mercilessly, riding Shane’s cock directly into his own rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Tell the fire department they’ll have to- Ah! To come tear me off this bed themselves.”

Shane, evidently, had had enough, and with a strength he displayed frustratingly seldom, he brought his arms up, slipped to the side, and dropped Ryan flat onto his stomach. 

“You’re so infuriating.” Shane placed one hand on Ryan’s ass, spreading him just enough, and brought the tip of his cock just to Ryan’s hole. In the pause, Ryan noticed the smoke alarm had stopped. “You’re really pushing it.” 

“I wish _you’d_ push it a bit faster,” Ryan muttered, words muffled where his face was jammed into the sheets. It had the desired effect, because Shane laughed bitterly and drove home. And this, this position was explosive, and Ryan had to brace his hands to stop his head from going straight through the drywall. So Ryan was off again, riding the wave, happy again until- 

“Shane, Ryan?” Sherry. Ryan was going to murder that sweet woman. 

Shane’s hand clapped back over Ryan’s mouth, but he hadn’t pulled out. Ryan moaned around Shane’s fingers, just to be contrary.

“Yes, Mom?” 

Ryan’s body, held taut on the edge of coming for too long, was on fire. Far from backing down, Shane’s hips were still rolling minutely, like he couldn’t stop himself from moving. The angle was perfect, and the speed was torture. 

“The smoke alarm went off!”

“I know, Mom. We heard.” Shane was taking slow, steadying breaths that brushed over Ryan’s ear and ratcheted his arousal up another notch. 

“Okay, well. Nothing’s on fire.” Sherry sounded amused. “Just a setback with the popcorn in the microwave. All fixed up now. Do you want some?”

There was a pause. A frustrated tear escaped Ryan’s eye and ran onto Shane’s hand.

“Shane? Some popcorn?”

“No thanks, Mom.”

“Okay, well, goodnight boys.”

And then finally, finally, her retreating steps. Shane drew his hand back from Ryan’s mouth and they both paused, listening, just to be sure. 

Ryan was frustrated but still- 

“ _Microwave_ popcorn, Shane? I thought you came from better stock.” 

Shane huffed a laugh, but he’d taken the hand that had been on Ryan’s mouth and pressed it firmly into Ryan’s lower back. He’d been buried desperately, gratifyingly deep inside of Ryan the whole time, but now he inched back. The lube had gotten tacky, yet Ryan was so close that he didn’t care. In fact he was so close that every sensation was both pleasant and unbearable at once.

“Shane.” Ryan wasn’t above begging when the situation called. “Please, Shane, come on.”

Shane gently looped his other arm - the one that wasn’t pressing him firmly down - across Ryan’s collarbone, and then very ungently slammed back into him. The effort made Ryan skid up the sheets and the friction brought him up to speed. 

In minutes, Ryan let go desperately into the bedsheets with a choked-off cry, and Shane followed him over the edge, coming hard with his face pressed to Ryan’s nape.

Ryan waited until after Shane was kneeling behind him, gently mopping at his thighs with a very insufficient wad of tissues until he asked.

“So,” he started. “Are you into getting caught or not?”

“Not,” Shane replied instantly. “Not by my blood relatives, at least.”

“But you seemed so into it the first time.” Ryan rolled onto his back and looked at Shane. “After Steven’s, you know.”

“‘Not by my blood relatives’ I said,” Shane repeated, tossing the ball of tissue. “Besides, I wasn’t- I was into _you_ , Ryan.” 

Ryan knew he’d be paying for this tomorrow, when he had to sheepishly limp downstairs, but tonight? Shane curled up into Ryan’s side, sticky and sweaty and too-close and perfect. Ryan would take a bit of humiliation in exchange for this feeling. Any day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the opportunity to write something a bit short and easy. Love youse.


End file.
